


Picky Eater

by the_sea_glass



Category: Glee
Genre: Chronic Illness, M/M, celiac disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sea_glass/pseuds/the_sea_glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is not a picky eater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt is _not_ a picky eater.

At least not in the sense that everyone thinks he is. 

His friends tell him it’s annoying when he takes extra time to read food labels and to stop complaining about his stomach and head every time he eats.

They don’t _want_ to know anything about his stomach beyond when he wants go out for lattes or dinner at Breadstix.

They don’t _need_ to know that he’s always hungry, but he’s losing weight; that his stomach is bloated and always has sharp pains running through it; that his face is breaking out, despite the use of designer face wash; that he’s running to the bathroom every ten minutes to throw up or spend a hour on the toilet; and that he’s having daily migraines to top it off.

The girls just roll their eyes and say that he can’t understand because he’s a boy and doesn’t have a period. If he did, he thinks this is what it might feel like.

They tell him he’s dramatic when he complains about itching unless he uses his own skin creams.

His dad finally forces him to do to the doctor, who makes him get a blood tests and an endoscopy, which, _gross_ , is for old people.

After enduring having _six_ vials of blood drawn; his entire arm poked with needles to test for allergies; three checklists for symptoms; two pee cups; one miserable day before the endoscopy of fasting and drinking system-cleansing liquid; and two hours in the hospital for a procedure; he finally gets a response.

He’s sleeping off the sedatives, when the phone rings and his dad answers it, and brings it to him. The clinic staff set him up with an emergency appointment for the next day with his doctor. 

His father comes with him and holds his hand, silently giving him strength for whatever the diagnosis may be.

The nurse checks his weight (he’s down five pounds from before the endoscopy), and his height (half an inch shorter, because he’s too fatigued to stand up straight), and his blood pressure (high because he’s so nervous).

The time ticks by slowly and he begins to pace, despite his father’s calls to sit down.

Finally, the doctor walks in.

“Hi Kurt,” she offers a neutral expression. “How are you feeling?”

Kurt shrugs.

“The good news is that I think we have a diagnosis, so if we’re right, you won’t be needing any more tests for a while.”

Kurt stares at the doctor’s lips as she talks and he can’t look away. Burt squeezes his hand and he squeezes back even harder- enough for a boy to hurt an older man.

“You don’t have a fetal disease, but you do have a chronic, autoimmune disorder called Celiac Disease.”

Kurt blinks.

“Essentially, your small intestines can’t absorb the nutrients that they need, because your body can’t process the protein gluten, which is found in wheat, barley, rye, and sometimes, oats. “

Kurt blinks again.

“You mean that dumb trend diet Rachel and diet nuts desperate to lose weight everywhere are on these days?”

“I think you’re referring to the ‘gluten free diet’, and although studies have shown improvement by eliminating gluten from your diet, that can be attributed to many different factors.”

The doctor hands both Kurt and Burt identical packets from behind her clipboard.

Kurt flips through the information.

“No bread or pasta? And it’s found in most packaged foods?”

“That’s correct; however, there are a lot of substitutes, but they can be on the pricier side.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose like he does when he’s upset and thinking too hard.

“That being said, you can still eat a lot of other grains, such as rice, corn, quinoa, tapioca, etcetera.”

“I know that it’s a lot to take in at first, but I’m almost positive that you will begin to feel a lot better and that your body will begin to heal, so you’ll feel less lethargic and cranky.”

“So I guess cupcakes and donuts and dinner rolls are now out of the question- and basically all free foods at every McKinley event.” Kurt sighed.

“Think of it as a challenge to learn new things to cook and bake.”

“I do like challenges.”

“And I will set you up with a dietitian to make sure that you’re getting all of the nutrients that you need and allowing your body the opportunity to heal. However, the healing process will take years to completely finish. And every time your body comes into contact with gluten again, it will have to heal again.”

“I have enough stress in my life, without having to worry about food issues.” Kurt sighs.

“Now you know how I feel, kid.” Burt chuckles.

Kurt gives his father his best bitch glare in response.

“Also, as time goes on, you’ll probably become more sensitive and might react more violently.”

“Great.” Kurt grumbles.

“Now, do you have any questions- Kurt or Burt?”

The Hummels shake their heads ‘no’.

“Well, I’m going to get going to my next patient then. But if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call the office.” The doctor hands Kurt a business card.

Burt shakes the doctors hand, before exiting the office.

“I think I’m going to go home and sob over my _Les Mis_ DVD. At least, then, I’ll have something to cry over that isn’t a bunch of crap.”

Burt shoots his son a worried glance- he’ll have to talk to Carole about adjusting teens to chronic health issues later. In the meantime, he’ll consider calling his son’s boyfriend to come support him.

As he watches his son climb up to his room and slam the door, he can only hope that he will begin to cope soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt curls up on his large bed, and pulls his blankets around him until he feels like a (fabulous) burrito. He watches another episode of America’s Next Top Model on DVR, but he only hears about half of it. The other half of his brain, is listening to his churning stomach and brewing migraine. Burt tries to get him to come downstairs for dinner, but hours has passed since then and now, he is more miserable than ever. Not to mention, he’s craving everything his stomach can’t take. 

He wants pizza, a cheeseburger, a turkey sandwich, pasta salad, toast, Eggo Waffles; even Saltine crackers and chicken noodle soup, like his mom use to make him when he was sick. But his brain is telling him no- that will just make him feel worse.

Eventually, he falls into a sleep.

—

Kurt wakes up to a warm body spooning him. He feels a warm head lift and kiss him on the side of his head, right in front of his ear.

“Mmmph.” He groans. “No—have to— brush teeth— mouth gross—throw up.”

Blaine begins to nibble on Kurt’s ear.

“I don’t care, one bit, baby.”

“I do.” Kurt rolls over onto his stomach, suddenly aware of the loud pulsing of a throbbing headache in his ears.

Blaine sets his warm hand on Kurt’s cool neck, which made him shiver. He begins to rub down Kurt’s back.

“This sucks,” Kurt groans.

“I know, baby.” Blaine agreed, as the weak teen drifted off into another restless sleep.

—

Kurt wakes again- this time to blackness.

He feels oddly awake, even though the clock says that it ‘s just after one in the morning.

He rolls over, upon realizing that his bed feels oddly empty.

Patting his bed, he realizes that it feels cool, which let him know that Blaine had left a while ago.

He blindly makes his way into the bathroom in the dark and turns on the lights and blinks his eyes to adjust to the change. 

His stomach feels like he has overdosed on coffee on an empty stomach, but his whole body feels like he has overdosed on life.

Of course, Kurt laughs bitterly, he’d just overdosed on gluten.

Feeling his clothes cling to his sticky body, he realizes that he sweat so much in his sleep, that he’d soaked his shirt in sweat. Wincing at the grossness of his body’s actions, he pulls off his damp shirt, and then looked at himself in the mirror.

He pushes his plaid flannel pajamas down low on his hips, and notices how the normal slight arch of his back, looks like he was pushing it out. His stomach sticks out. Everywhere else looked too frail- he knows that he can’t keep weight on- he wishes that he could.

Quinn told him that she was envious of his figure- but he wishes that he didn’t have to stare at his rib bones all of the time- that he could have some muscle, or heaven forbid, some fat.

Realizing that he probably can’t make sense of his thoughts this tired, he sleepwalks back to bed.

—

Kurt wakes up again- this time to daylight. 

A glance at the clock tells him that it’s barely past seven. 

He is never a late sleeper to begin with, but having gone to be so early, made it hard for him to sleep in very late.

Groaning, he rolls out of bed and takes a long shower. He comes out feeling just a little bit better.

It’s just soap and water, Kurt knows, but there is some sort of magic healing power that comes from standing in a steaming shower and using your favorite shampoo.

Kurt tosses his gross, dirty pajamas into the hamper, and pulls on a clean pair of striped pajamas and white tee shirt.

He slowly makes his way down the stairs, upset that he is unable to shake the foggy feeling in his brain, like he is a zombie walking through a thick mist.

He’s used to waking up ready to take the day; but not anymore.

He starts the coffee machine on autopilot. He poured a dose of his favorite vanilla creamer into his coffee and migrated over to the couch, where he turned on re-runs of Americas Next Top Model on DVR.

He continues to sip his coffee, hoping that the warmth would help alleviate some of the pains in his stomach and his body in general.

This was the point, when he was younger, that he would definitely be sipping a cup of hot chicken noodle soup or munching on a roll of Ritz crackers.

Kurt sighed again and slipped down onto his side into sleeping position on the couch.

—

The first thing that Kurt notices when he wakes up is the warmth of a soft body against his cheek and a hot hand resting comfortably on his shoulder.

"Hey, sleep head." A voice coos. 

Kurt blinks, half-dried goop preventing him from opening his eyes all the way. But even in the haze, he can tell that Blaine is sitting next to him, with a food tray resting over his lap. 

“How are you feeling?” Blaine pushes a stray hair stuck on the corner of Kurt’s goopy eye out of his boyfriend’s face. 

“Too soon to tell.” Kurt says, in a voice deep and gargled for him.

But a loud grumble from Kurt’s stomach gives the sick teen away. 

Blaine chuckles. “Good thing you’re hungry- I made you chicken and rice soup.”

Kurt can feel his mouth salivate.

For a moment, he thinks that he’ll eat whatever is put in front of him.

But a nagging voice in the back of his head, even in his dazed state, tells him otherwise.

“No noodles?” Kurt asks tentatively.

Blaine nods ‘no’.

“No bread?”

”No crackers?”

"Is rice even gluten free?”

Blaine takes Kurt’s hand. “I’ve been doing some research while you’ve been out and it tells me that most rice is- you might just come across rice that’s made in the same place as gluten- and is therefore not safe… But. The package said that this rice was gluten free- so you’re good to go.” 

Kurt groans again. 

“Come on beautiful,” Blaine looks deep into Kurt’s eyes and takes his hand, “let’s get something in your stomach.”

Kurt gives Blaine an uneasy look, but Blaine gives him his most sympathetic and cheerful smile.

“C’mon.” Blaine adds. “We have the new Project Runway on DVR and I promise to give you kisses for dessert.”

“You suck.” Kurt grumbles.

“You know you love me,” Blaine grins, leaning over the back of the couch and pressing a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head.

Blaine returns a minute later with a TV tray containing two hot cups of tea and two steaming bowls of soup. He can hear Kurt’s stomach grumble and raises his eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“Shut up.” Kurt snaps.

“I know you’re hungry. Tummy grumbles don’t lie.” Blaine teases and lifts Kurt’s long legs and sets them on his lap, so he can sit down next to Kurt on the couch.

Blaine begins to sip his own soup, when he realizes that Project Runway was never turned on.

“Do I have to make airplane noises to get any of that in your mouth?” Blaine says teasingly, but it’s hard to cover up the worry on his face. 

“Don’t you dare, Blaine Devon Anderson,” Kurt glares, but picks up his soup spoon and wearily brings it to his lips.

Blaine sees the lump in Kurt’s throat as the food goes down and he supposes that’s all he can really ask for today.

Blaine thinks tomorrow will be better.

Kurt’s not so sure.


End file.
